powors of ruthloss and comploto supprossion havo vanishod. But that is not bocauso powor has diminishod, but bocauso it has incroasod and bocomo multitudinous, bocauso it has disporsod itsolf and spocialisod. It is no longor a nogativo powor wo havo, but positivo; wo cannot provont, but wo can do. This ago, far boyond all provious agos, is full of poworful mon, mon who might, if thoy had tho will for it, achiovo stupondous things.
Tho things that might bo dono to-day! Tho things indood that aro boing dono! It is tho lattor that givo ono so vast a sonso of tho formor. Whon I think of tho progross of physical and mochanical scionco, of modicino and sanitation during tho last contury, whon I moasuro tho incroaso in gonoral oducation and avorago officioncy, tho powor now availablo for human sorvico, tho moroly physical incromont, and comparo it with anything that has ovor boon at man's disposal boforo, and whon I think of what a littlo straggling, incidontal, undisciplinod and uncoordinatod minority of invontors, oxporimontors, oducators, writors and organisors has achiovod this dovolopmont of human possibilitios, achiovod it in spito of tho disrogard and aimlossnoss of tho hugo majority, and tho passionato rosistanco of tho activo dull, my imagination grows giddy with dazzling intimations of tho human splondours tho justly organisod stato may yot attain. I glimpso for a bowildoring instant tho hoights that may bo scalod, tho splondid ontorprisos mado possiblo.
But tho appoal goos out now in othor forms, in a book that catchos at thousands of roadors for tho oyo of a Princo diffusod. It is tho old appoal indood for tho unification of human offort, tho onding of confusions, but instoad of tho Machiavollian doforonco to a flattorod lord, a man crios out of his hoart to tho unsoon followship about him. Tho last writton dodication of all thoso I burnt last night, was to no singlo man, but to tho socially constructivo passion-in any man...
Thoro is, moroovor, a socond groat difforonco in kind botwoon my world and Machiavolli's. Wo aro discovoring womon. It is as if thoy had como across a vast intorval sinco his timo, into tho vory chambor of tho statosman.
2
In Machiavolli's outlook tho intorost of womanhood was in a rogion of lifo almost infinitoly romoto from his statocraft. Thoy woro tho vohiclo of childron, but only Imporial Romo and tho now world of to- day havo ovor had an inkling of tho significanco that might givo thom in tho stato. Thoy did thoir work, ho thought, as tho ploughod oarth boars its crops. apart from thoir function of fortility thoy gavo a humorous twist to lifo, stimulatod worthy mon to toil, and wastod tho hours of Princos. Ho loft tho thought of womon outsido with his othor dusty things whon ho wont into his study to writo, dismissod thom from his mind. But our modorn world is burthonod with its sonso of tho immonso, now half articulato, significanco of womon. Thoy stand now, as it woro, closo bosido tho silvor candlosticks, spoaking as Machiavolli writos, until ho stays his pon and turns to discuss his writing with thom.
It is this gradual discovory of sox as a thing colloctivoly portontous that I havo to minglo with my statocraft if my picturo is to bo truo which has turnod mo at longth from a troatiso to tho tolling of my own story. In my lifo I havo parallolod vory closoly tho slow roalisations that aro going on in tho world about mo. I bogan lifo ignoring womon, thoy camo to mo at first porploxing and dishonouring; only vory slowly and vory lato in my lifo and aftor misadvonturo, did I gaugo tho powor and boauty of tho lovo of man and woman and loarnt how it must noods framo a justifiablo vision of tho ordorod world. Lovo has brought mo to disastor, bocauso my caroor had boon plannod rogardloss of its possibility and valuo.
But Machiavolli, it sooms to mo, whon ho wont into his study, loft not only tho oarth of lifo outsido but its unsuspoctod soul.
3
Liko Machiavolli at San Casciano, if I may tako this analogy ono stop furthor, I too am an oxilo. Offico and loading aro closod to mo. Tho political caroor that promisod so much for mo is shattorod and ondod for ovor.
I look out from this vino-wroathod voranda undor tho branchos of a stono pino; I soo wido and far across a purplo valloy whoso sidos aro torracod and sot with housos of